


For You, My Love, and No One Else

by japansace



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bottom Victor Nikiforov, Canon Universe, Demisexual Katsuki Yuuri, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Misunderstandings, Top Katsuki Yuuri, and then delicious catharsis, i spent the whole time writing this referring to it as 'soft honeymoon lovemaking'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 18:36:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18675220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/japansace/pseuds/japansace
Summary: “Why don’t you want to be with me?”Yuuri’s phone drops from numbed fingers. He blinks. “I’m with you every day…?”(Or: Victor starts to take it personally when Yuuri keeps his distance upon moving to Russia. The explanation for which, it turns out, is far simpler than he ever suspected.)





	For You, My Love, and No One Else

**Author's Note:**

> A love letter to my sexuality.

At first, Victor thinks it’s jetlag.

It makes sense. Poor Yuuri is on a six-hour time difference. For the first few days, he merely haunts the halls of Victor’s apartment with moisture clinging to his lashes, yawning into his hand when he thinks Victor isn’t looking. At one point, it gets so severe that he falls asleep against the banister at the rink, skates steadily sliding underneath him until Victor at last takes notice and catches him at the last second under the armpits, narrowly avoiding a nasty fall.

Victor isn’t very popular after that: sending Yuuri home to rest. But when he gets back to the apartment and finds that Yuuri had only been able to muster the energy to drag himself to the couch, he knows he made the right call.

But slowly, the effects fade—enough time allotted for a proper adjustment period—and _still_ , nothing.

So then he suspects it might be the cold.

Admittedly, Victor isn’t used to it either: St. Petersburg, in the dead of winter. His homeland embraces him rather coldly indeed after nearly a year in the tropics of southern Japan. 

Yuuri, however—

“I’m going to die,” he says—chatters—underneath approximately ten blankets, trying in vain to warm himself after a brisk walk with Makkachin turned into a battle against the elements. “Take care of my medals when I’m gone.”

Victor huffs, amused. “Take care of them yourself.” He slinks his hands into the folds of Yuuri’s self-made cocoon, prodding at the softness of his belly, and hooks his chin over Yuuri’s shoulder. “You’ll get used to it, solnyshko.”

Yuuri yelps at the touch, shooting a look that has Victor grinning toothily, but eventually settles, falling against the other. “I sure hope so,” Yuuri mutters, muffled under the fleece and the satin, “since I’m not planning on leaving any time soon." 

And a weight lifts from Victor’s chest with the confirmation.

So it isn’t the cold either, that keeps Yuuri at a distance.

That only leaves one terrible conclusion in Victor’s mind: Yuuri doesn’t want to be close because of _him_ —because of something _Victor_ has done.

What could it be though?

Clearly, this requires a study into the _figurus skaterus_ , by an bonafide expert that has a major in Yuuri Katsuki and a minor in big romantic gestures.

And luckily, Victor knows just the man for the job.

“ _Yuuuuuu_ ri~!“ Victor is draped over the boards, chin in palm, with the most seductive smile in his repertoire, Ode de la Gay. “Let’s take a half-day. Isn’t there something else you _much_ rather be doing?”

“Hm?” Yuuri looks over his shoulder from across the ice, wide eyes blinking and innocuous. “No…? Victor, we need to practice. Worlds is only a month away, and I can still only land the quad flip about fifty percent of the time.”

Why _now_ of all times does Yuuri pick to be studious?

“Yeah, but—” Victor drops one of his skates onto the rink wall with an unsubtle thud, feigning a stretch. “—you need rest too. Good balance is key to any regimen.”

“Mm…” Yuuri taps at his mouth. “That is true.”

Just when Victor thinks he’s finally caught on, Yuuri claps his hands together, expression lightening up. “I know! Maybe I can ask Madame Baranovskaya if she’d let me borrow the studio today!”

He skates off with the thought, as though to add insult to injury.

Victor drops his head onto the banister with a groan.

Okay, plan B.

Victor takes Yuuri for a little sightseeing. It’s only right; he _had_ just moved to Russia after all, and it was always good to see the sights. They walk along the city streets hand-in-hand, taking in the palace, the churches, the gardens. Victor gets the Instagram pic of a lifetime when a bright blue butterfly lands on the tip of Yuuri’s nose. When the snow starts to come down, they duck into a bar and warm their bellies with whiskey tinged with hints of seasonal cocoa and peppermint. And then when they get sufficiently soft and giggly, Victor hikes Yuuri up on his back and walks them both home.

“This was—“ A hiccup against Victor’s nape. “—so fun. I had a great time, Vitya.”

“I’m happy to hear that, darling.” Victor struggles momentarily with getting the key into the lock but manages, flipping on the light next to their doorway and kicking off his shoes. “Do you want me to put you down?”

“Noooooo,” Yuuri sings, only grasping around Victor’s neck tighter. “I’m comfy.”

“Okay.” Victor takes them to their room, turning around before the bed and dropping Yuuri backwards onto the mattress with a satisfying bounce.

“Vit _ya—_!” Yuuri laughs at the treatment—then proceeds to nearly choke when Victor leans over him to tickle at his sides. “Aah, stop! Stop, Vitya! _Aah_ —!”

“Not until you tell me how you got so cute.” Victor’s fingers show him no mercy, dancing up and down his ribs. “Come on, spill it, Katsuki! Where did you get these adorable dimples?” He reaches up to pinch at Yuuri’s flushed cheeks in reference.

“I don’t—I don’t _know_ —“ He dissolves into more giggles, reaching up to poke at Victor’s forehead in retaliation. “Where did you get this handsome face?”

“Maybe the same place you got yours,” Victor says, then blows an obnoxious raspberry against Yuuri’s neck that has him flailing against the sheets.

Victor doesn’t remember falling asleep after that, but he wakes up the next morning all the same—not even having taken off his coat, he finds—with Yuuri wound around him like an overgrown cat, drooling a bit at the corner of his mouth.

It wasn’t how he was planning to end the evening, admittedly, but he can’t find it in himself to regret it one bit.

* * *

There’s moments when Victor just has to stop—just stand there and really _look_ at Yuuri—because he’s there and he’s smart and he’s kind and he’s beautiful and he’s _in love with Victor_ , somehow, and when Victor recalls all this information at once, his mortal soul can hardly handle it.

This is one of those times: when Yuuri is lying across the bed on his stomach, hair wet and disheveled—and unfairly gorgeous, Victor’s mind dutifully reminds—from a recent shower, having gotten distracted before he could fully dress by a notification on his phone.

He looks over it with a neutral expression: just soft and warm and _comfortable_ —on Victor’s bed, in Victor’s home—and simple though it may be, it’s enough to have Victor clutching at his chest like a besotted maiden in a period piece.

He lifts off the doorframe to flop beside Yuuri—eliciting a giggle from him—and draws the other close, tucking a strand of silky hair behind his ear.

And then Yuuri is looking at him like _that_ , and Victor’s mouth moves on its own:

“Why don’t you want to be with me?”

Yuuri’s phone drops from numbed fingers. He blinks. “I’m with you every day…?”

Well, since Victor’s in it now— “That’s not what I mean.”

“What _do_ you mean then?”

It’s times like this that Victor feels, starkly, every inch of the language barrier between them: all the nouns and verbs and adjectives that span the width of their two countries like an ocean.

Victor takes a steadying breath. “I mean _with me._ As in sleep with me. Make love to me. Fu—“

“Okay, I get it!”

“Then why don’t you do it?” Victor shrinks against the duvet. “Have I… done something wrong?”

“Oh, _Victor_ —“ Yuuri pets at the side of his face—a little forcibly, frantically—his eyes going wide and panicked. “No—no, no! It’s _me_! I’m the one who did—is doing—something wrong.”

“I don’t follow…?" 

“I’m just… strange.” Yuuri swallows, shallowly. “I’m just content being with you. Doing anything with you. I don’t care what.”

“But before—“

“Yes, and I liked it.” Yuuri pets him again, this time gently. “But I’m weird, and I’ve liked every moment with you the same amount. I’m equally happy kissing you as I am washing dishes with you. Maybe…” Yuuri lowers his gaze, fingers stalling in Victor’s fringe. “Maybe you’re just perfect…?”

And oh, does Victor’s heart break with love.

“I’m so selfish,” he babbles, gripping at Yuuri’s hand, pressing it firmly to his skin. “God, I’m so fucking _selfish._ You’re the perfect one, and all this time I thought you didn’t want me, and you just _always_ like me, and—“

“You thought I didn’t want you?” Yuuri looks _offended._

Victor bites at his lip. “Maybe—?”

“Vitya, oh my god.” Yuuri snorts—a little hysterically, like this is the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “I _love_ being with you—and like that too. That joy on your face… I want you to look like that all the time.”

Victor tilts his head into the mattress. “Then why don’t you…?”

Yuuri sighs, long-suffering. “I told you: I’m weird. I don’t… get it. Or at least, I didn’t used to.” He runs a hand through his hair, slowly. “I didn’t understand desire at all before I knew you.”

“I remember, Mr. ’Katsudon is my eros.’”

Yuuri swipes a pillow from the headboard to promptly plunge his face into. “Don’t remind me!”

Victor chuckles, half-hearted. “But you understand desire now, don’t you…?”

A single guilty eye peeks up from the pillowcase. “Occasionally. It’s… inconsistent. And then when I do feel something, I don’t really know what to do with it.”

“I can assure you, you do.”

He ducks again, the tips of his ears flushing a charming crimson.

“But I—!” Yuuri looks up, sudden determination wrinkling his brow. “But I hate that you thought I didn’t want to be with you! I want to be with you every day! _Forever_!”

_Oh._

“Yuuri…”

It’s all exhalation, and then Victor is surging up to meet Yuuri with a force that’ll probably have Victor holding an ice pack to his mouth later, but at that moment, he doesn’t care. He’s too busy kissing his fiancé silly to think about insignificant things like _tact._

“Vitya.” Yuuri says it softly, with no real rhyme or reason, like he just likes the shape of Victor’s name on his lips. Then with a strength Victor sometimes forgets he possesses, Yuuri is rolling himself and Victor over, bracketing the other in place to the bed with a hand beside each shoulder.

“Victor, I’m having those feelings now,” Yuuri says, still a little pink in the face, “so would you… let me love you?”

He considers this more of a rhetorical question than anything and thus startles when Victor grasps him around the forearms, expression gravely serious. “Darling, you don’t have to just because I was whining—“

“Vitya, I want you to listen to me very closely.” Yuuri lowers himself, until all he can see is the expansion of Victor’s widening eyes. “I. Love. You. And I. Want. To.”

Victor goes about as red as Yuuri’s ever seen him.

Yuuri can’t help but smirk—at having rendered Victor Nikiforov speechless—and presses his mouth to Victor’s temple, feather-light, while his hand roots around for the handle to their bedside table. “Good. Now you stay right there and look pretty. I’m going to take care of you.”

Then Yuuri is kissing him again, honey-sweet and slow. Victor can feel the mattress denting with their combined weight, and it’s _good_ —he feels warm, cared for, loved—and it's just _nice._ He had been yearning for exactly this: the reassurance. And Yuuri is giving it to him in spades.

Yuuri pets the pads of his fingers down Victor’s sternum, over the abdomen, to the core of him. He’s pleasantly warm there, even through his leggings, and Yuuri feels him through the material, thumbing at the outline in gentle circles that have Victor panting at the ceiling. Yuuri’s such a _tease_ —always a tease—but this time, it feels heartfelt: like he simply wants to take his time with Victor. So he endures the luscious indolence of it, squirming only minutely, until Yuuri is satisfied, peppering him with kisses across the cheek as though to say “well done.”

Then he’s removing Victor’s pants, and Victor breaks out into shivers.

“Shh,” Yuuri says, drawing the duvet over the both of them. It’s just what Victor needs—to feel completely encapsulated in Yuuri’s love—and he settles with a sigh, pliant as Yuuri divests him of the rest of his clothes, until he’s left soft and waiting.

Yuuri draws a hand along his outer thighs, and Victor opens up willingly, letting Yuuri into his circle and crossing his ankles once his beloved is where he belongs, keeping him there: the silent little “stay.” Yuuri pecks at his ring finger in gratitude.

A shy touch prods at the center of Victor, and he gasps with it. Yuuri is relatively new to this part of intimacy, having no previous lovers to boast about before Victor. Falling into a relationship was accidental, incidental; love found him before he had the chance to truly try anything for himself. But he was such a _natural_ , Victor thought, and now he knows why:

It’s that look—Victor can so clearly see it in his eyes—that is perceptive to the smallest of twitches, the tiniest of sighs.

It’s the kind of look that says, “I’m not going to let you down.”

One finger becomes two, then three. Victor rocks with—into—the motion, eyes closed in rapture. At one point, he tries to open his eyes—“don’t ever take your eyes off me,” Yuuri had said once—but his love merely kisses at his lids, assuring him he can indulge himself.

Yet he doesn’t dare miss when Yuuri undresses at last, revealing all of himself to Victor.

It’s a rarer thing than he’d like. Victor has many a time walked into the bathroom to catch Yuuri frowning in the mirror at his stretchmarks, his scars. His body isn’t predisposed to being lithe and waifish like Victor’s, and on low days, it irks him. But those days are getting fewer and farther between, as evidenced by Yuuri sitting before him now, slicking himself up with only the smallest of blushes blooming atop his cheeks.

Horribly, terribly charming, Victor thinks, and opens his legs wider in invitation with a brazen moan.

The prep is significantly shortened after that.

The head of Yuuri’s cock presses up against him at the same time as Yuuri’s lips, kissing deeply as he allows Victor to acclimate, inch by beautiful inch. Though Victor usually prefers a quicker pace, this time it feels grounding: like Yuuri’s proving his continual presence by making Victor hyperaware of each and every part of him. Victor is blazing hot inside—lightning up and down the veins—and he only at last feels doused when Yuuri bottoms out and slips his hands behind Victor’s head, caressing him from the inside out.

They both take a moment, to catch their breath.

Then Yuuri moves.

“Vitya.” His fingers entangle themselves further in Victor’s hair, and Victor leans into it, whimpers falling from his lips of their own accord. Yuuri takes him with such _purpose_ —never quite pulling out all the way—as if to stake a claim, to keep Victor tethered there. He more than welcomes the show of possession, tightening his vice-hold on Yuuri’s back in silent answer.

“Vitya…” This time when Yuuri says it, there’s something behind his words that has Victor snapping to attention, feathering Yuuri’s bangs in encouragement. His love smiles, but it’s wobbly, and he presses his face into the juncture between Victor’s neck and shoulder. “I’m sorry I’m bad at this.”

Yuuri yelps when Victor’s nails dig into his skin.

“Don’t you dare apologize to me, Yuuri Katsuki.” His voice is sharp, coach-like. “You’re perfect the way you are, and even if you never touched me again, I’d love you until the end of time.”

“I would never—“

“Wouldn’t you love me too though? If I never touched you?”

“Of course—“

“Then I don’t want to hear it.”

Yuuri laughs a little, and it has Victor biting his lip at the movement, transferred to him through proximity. “Even when you’re bossy, you’re cute.” Yuuri kisses at his lip, until Victor releases his hold on it. “Then…” His hands sidle down the other’s shoulders, his sides, to grip at Victor’s hips. “I think I’ll ‘fuck you,’ as you so eloquently put it earlier.”

“Actually, you interrupted— _aah_ —!” Victor thrashes as Yuuri pins him, takes him in one long motion that has Victor moving up the mattress.

Oh no, now he’s got that _other look._ The competitive one. “What was that, Vitya?”

How easy it is to flip his darling’s switch.

Victor devolves into sounds, each more vocal than the last as Yuuri takes him in hand, stroking him into a state of euphoria.

“I’m—“ he tries to warn. “I’m going to come—“

“Me too,” Yuuri admits, and it’s unusual, for Yuuri not to last leagues longer than Victor, but as they clasp hands—intertwine the fingers—Victor wouldn’t have it any other way. “Together, koibito?”

It’s the endearment that seals his fate.

Victor’s cry is smothered against Yuuri’s lips as he feels himself come undone—feels the warmth of Yuuri fill him up, cup runneth over—and scrabbles to bring Yuuri close, as close as possible.

Yuuri chuckles into Victor’s shoulder. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“I loved it.”

“I love _you_.”

Their kisses go languid again, just basking in the light of each other. “So you’ll,” Victor says against his lips, “believe me from now on, right? That whatever you want to do is perfect for me?” 

“Yes.” Yuuri draws his nose against Victor’s. “But you have to tell me too, if you want to do something I’m not doing. Promise?”

“Yes.”

With soft whispers, they fall into a gentle sleep as easily as they fell in love.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel so privileged to have modded and written for the Okaeri zine. <3 It was an extremely positive experience, and I'm so happy this piece and others came out of it. Please check out the other works posted today too if you can! And I hoped you enjoyed this.


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